


Re-Animated

by Driverpicksthemooseic (Ratkinzluver33)



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: And accepted into the Nerd Crew!, Billy Hargrove Redemption, Billy is Alive, Experiment Billy Hargrove, Fix-It, M/M, Post-Season/Series 03, because of course it is
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-09-06 17:11:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20295067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ratkinzluver33/pseuds/Driverpicksthemooseic
Summary: Steve's sort of stopped questioning what the dead can and cannot do since the Gate opened in Hawkins.(OR, another post-S3 fix-it that nobody asked for.)





	1. Part One: The Body Snatcher

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't supposed to write this and then I did. Isn't that how it always goes? I have a chapter outline (which is why there's tentatively no 1/? label), but I also have a super busy schedule, so hopefully this gets done in a timely fashion, but I can't make promises because I suck.
> 
> I just really needed another post-S3 fix-it. So I wrote one. Someone put me out of my misery already.
> 
> The title is even a reference to an 80's zombie movie. That's where I am right now.

"C'mon," Steve says. "Get in."

Max glares at him, one hand fiddling with a bright red braid, the other wrapped around a bouqet she's found somewhere Steve still isn't sure. "Give it a break, jeeze, I have to make sure the flowers look alright."

"They're a hideous enough blue, I guess." Steve shrugs and gets a snort out of Max. They've been doing this for five months and he still hasn't asked her what the arrangements mean or if anyone else knows why she gets them. He just drives her there, every Friday (it was his favourite day, apparently) at 4pm, like clockwork. Sure as hell Neil won't do it, and Steve _is_ the resident babysitter, after all. This is his job now. Giving rides to thirteen-year-olds.

Even to Billy Hargrove's grave.

He doesn't ever say much. The most he knew about Billy was the feel of his fist. It doesn't feel right to talk to the grave of someone who he'd beat bloody. It's not like Billy liked him, or even knew anything about why Steve was so eager to pass on the crown until the very end.

Max doesn't say much either. He'd asked, the first time, if she wanted to talk to him, if Steve needed to back off for a bit and leave them alone. _"No, that's stupid,"_ she'd said. _"He can't even hear me."_

Steve's sort of stopped questioning what the dead can and cannot do since the Gate opened in Hawkins.

"He didn't even like flowers," Max says with an unhappy laugh as Steve compulsively checks their seatbelts and pulls out of the Hargrove's driveway. "But I don't know what else to leave there. His favourite tapes? His gross-ass posters?"

"Yeah, I'm not sure how bikini-clad beach babes would go down in Hawkins Cemetery."

"Yeah, no." Max sighs. "So I just leave flowers. Like that's gonna make anything better."

"I'm sure he'd appreciate the gesture, right?" Max makes a very undignified sound at that. "Shit, okay, I know things weren't exactly great with you guys... but he would want to know you care, at least."

"Not enough to figure things out earlier."

Steve winces. He's not innocent in this either. He doesn't really like pools anymore, not since Barbara. He doesn't freak out in them as much as he used to, but he keeps away most of the time. He hadn't really paid any visits to the pool in the summer, especially not after he heard Billy got a job there. He didn't notice anything was wrong because he was too uncomfortable to check. "I mean, he didn't really like people snooping around."

"I'm his sister!" Max snaps. "That's not supposed to matter."

"And he was only Flayed for, like, a day or something before you found out," Steve continues helplessly.

"Because El thought something weird was going on! I just thought it was Billy being Billy. I totally brushed it off, and I know monsters are _real._"

There isn't really much he can say to that which doesn't come off vaguely asshole-ish. He tries to be comforting a lot more now than before, but he's still kinda shitty at it. "He seemed kinda unpredictable, so it makes sense you figured he was... doing his thing, I guess."

_Make that very shitty,_ comes a voice a lot like Robin's from the back of his mind.

"Yes, his thing of showing up to some girl's house to have dinner with her parents. Are you kidding me? He could turn on the charm, but he didn't _do_ that. He didn't do dating stuff." Max grimaces. Just saying the words dating and Billy Hargrove in the same sentence seems to have left a foul taste in her mouth.

"Never?"

Max scoffs. "Did the reckless driving in an eyesore of a Camaro while blasting rock music not scream commitment issues to you, Steve? I don't think he ever had time for a girlfriend when he was hanging with a new chick each day."

"He like that in California, too?"

She scrunches up her nose in thought. "I dunno. Maybe less. He was always an asshole, but in Cali he spent more time with his friends. Actual friends. Not like..."

"Tommy and Carol," Steve supplies. "Yeah, I wouldn't call them 'actual friends' either. They dropped me pretty fast after I stopped caring about bullshit high school drama."

"You've got us now anyway," Max says. "We're way better."

* * *

Objectively, Hawkins Cemetery isn't any scarier than the rest of the godforsaken town, but it always gives Steve the creeps anyway. Call it superstition.

Billy's grave is in the middle, next to an elderly couple that died in '73. It's nothing special, given that Neil spared every possible expense, and Steve's never seen anyone else visit it. Not anyone from school, not Susan past the first few weeks, nobody. It kind of tears him up inside, even though Billy was an out-of-control whirlwind of a piece of shit who terrorised everyone he met. Steve has his suspicions about what kind of father Neil was to him and why his first response to any problem was to beat the shit out of it. But he doesn't ask. Billy would've decked him for trying, and Max gets this expression whenever she talks about their past where all her usual fiery attitude just dies away. It freaks Steve the fuck out, so he doesn't bring it up.

Today's pretty sunny for winter. There's snow on the ground, but the headstones have all been swept up enough to tell whose grave you're standing on. Max is quiet as they make their way towards Billy's plot. It's the only time Steve really sees her withdrawn like this.

He's about to say something -- anything -- to fill the silence, when Max makes this sound like all the air has been taken from her lungs. Steve looks up, fingers itching for his bat, ready to see any abomination of meat and bone and razor-sharp teeth. He doesn't.

Billy's grave is empty. Torn up and gone, coffin lying open and cracked, splintered wood sticking out at odd angles like someone was desperate to get in.

"What the fuck?" Max croaks out. "Where's Billy? Where's Billy's-"

"He's not there," says Steve, ever Captain Obvious. He cringes, recalibrates a little. "Nothing's there. Uh, that's- that's definitely not good, man."

Max is already scrabbling in the dirt, peering down into the empty hole like she'll blink and find this has all been a dream. "Who would steal a body?" She meets his gaze, eyes watering and red-rimmed, and honest to God, this is the first time Steve's seen her cry since the funeral. "Who would steal _my brother's body_?"

"We'll get him back. Check Starcourt, or the lab. Or- I mean- did they bury one? Did you see?"

Max buries her muddy fingers in her hair, pulling the braids loose. "I thought I saw!" she says. "But I guess you can't even trust one thing in this town, 'cause why would we ever be that lucky?"

"Christ," Steve mutters. "God, this is so fucked up."

"What if they're using it for experiments?" Max's breath is hitching now as she chokes down a sob. "Like with El, but some kind of _corpse_-"

"Hey, no, look, it's pretty recent. It's recent, okay? Dirt hasn't even frozen over yet. Whoever took him is probably still around."

"I'm gonna kill them!" Max screeches. "I'm gonna find them and I'm gonna- I'll-"

Her tirade is cut off when a twig cracks behind them. Steve whips around, preparing to full-body drag Max off whoever stole her brother's dead fucking corpse, and nearly swallows his tongue.

There, covered in dirt and grass and half-melted snow, is Billy Hargrove.

Breathing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea how my update schedule is going to look. I am notoriously terrible at update schedules now that I've switched majors to something I'm a lot more engaged in. Please enjoy what I managed to get out here in the meantime!
> 
> Each chapter title is a reference to a 70's/80's movie as well. God save my sorry soul.


	2. Part Two: The Lost Boy

A thousand things run through his head. One is that he shouldn't be surprised at seeing weird shit in Hawkins anymore. Another is that Billy looks surprisingly okay for a zombie. A little dirty, a little out of it, but he's not missing limbs or half-rotten or gurgling like a mindless beast. He looks just like he did that night in Starcourt, actually, muscle tone and all, like he's spent the last five months in stasis and not decomposing in the ground.

He really, really needs to stop expecting anything to go according to plan anymore. Really, he should just stop expecting things all together, because if someone had told him last week he'd be face-to-face with a perfectly alive Billy Hargrove again, he'd have... actually, he'd probably have believed them. This town is a fucking nightmare.

"So it _was_ you," Billy says, nonsensically. Steve can't ask him to elaborate on what the fuck that's supposed to mean because Max is barreling into him like a missile, an unstoppable, crying, red blur. Billy wraps his arms around her, seemingly on autopilot. He's staring at the graveyard around him like it's the best thing he's ever seen. For all Steve knows, maybe it is. "How long's it been, Max?"

"Five months," she sobs out, like an accusation. "You've been dead five months, you asshole!"

"Time didn't work the same way there," he explains, which doesn't actually clear anything up at all, and you know what, that's enough cryptic bullshit for today. Steve is sick of cryptic bullshit.

"'There?' Where is _there?_ Actually, what the fuck is going on in general, man? You're supposed to be _dead!_" Smooth. But straight to the point.

Billy snorts. "Shut up, Harrington. Can't you see the prodigal son has returned?"

He's still a huge fucking dick. Why can't being dead for five months have cured him of being such a gigantic fucking douchebag? "Why aren't you dead?"

"I wasn't dead," Billy says.

"Uh, we buried you." Steve glares. "I went to your funeral."

"I'm touched," Billy spits back. God, Steve wants to kill him all over again. He forgot how much he hated literally every goddamn thing about Billy Hargrove. But just as Steve is about to yell about ungrateful pieces of shit, the cocky attitude drops as quick as it came. "I don't know. You were killing that Thing, weren't you? Trapping Him somewhere?" Max nods along vehemently. "Yeah, well. You trapped me, too. Or part of me, I guess."

"What?" Max cries. "No, you- I saw you-"

"It had to happen, Max. It was the only way to get rid of Him. And I got out, didn't I?"

"Yeah, actually, about that," Steve interrupts. "How are you here? Nothing's supposed to come back from there. If things can suddenly leave the Upside Down, if you've ripped open some kind of rift, we're- well, we're screwed."

"The Upside Down?" Billy parrots. "You're letting a bunch of twelve-year-olds name the fucking _parallel dimension_ you've got attached to this hick town?"

Steve throws up his hands. "Shut up, just shut up and drop the bullshit for five seconds, Hargrove. _How did you leave the Upside Down?_"

Billy looks down, suddenly embarrassed. "I followed your voices," he mumbles. "I didn't know how to get out, didn't know I could get out. But I needed to get the fuck away from _Him._ He knew I was stuck there, and he loved it. He'd stalk me, taunt me. So, yeah, I was sick of playing cat and mouse with that psycho, and I booked it. And then I heard you."

Max blinks. "You what?"

"I don't know how long I'd been there," he says. "Like I said, time works differently in that place. There's no sun, no stars, nothing. Just the same thing over and over. I already thought I was losing my damn mind, so when I started hearing Steve 'The King' fucking Harrington and my little sister making smalltalk, I just followed your voices." He shrugs. "It took me weeks, because I could only hear you sometimes. But camping out in the woods was better than Him trying to fuck with me, so I kept going. And eventually I found this place, on the other side. The graveyard. My grave."

"Our voices were coming from your grave?" Steve asks.

"Yeah. I thought, what the fuck, right? Apparently I'm dead and apparently my shitbird little sister buried me with a Walkie Talkie to annoy the shit out of my corpse. So, I tried to dig it up. I kept digging, and digging, and digging, and when I finally see something, it's the sun. I hadn't seen the sun even once the whole time I was trapped in that place, so I figured, maybe this is my light at the end of the tunnel. Maybe I can just go to Hell like every other dead piece of shit. So I crawled in. And I woke up here. Back in Hawkins. My own personal fucking paradise." He sneers. "And who do I see putting flowers on my grave? Steve Harrington himself. You miss the taste of blood in your mouth, pretty boy? Needed to reminisce about the good times?"

Every bit of relief Steve has at seeing Billy back from the dead evaporates in that single moment. "Sorry I was the only one willing to drive your sister to your grave, I guess, you fucking asshole."

Billy's mouth pulls down in a grimace, then he laughs, something ugly and broken. "Can't say I'm surprised. Dad wasn't my biggest fan. And Susan always was too busy playing housewife to give much of a shit." He grins, throws out some half-assed finger guns. "Thought maybe Tommy or Carol would stop by, pop open a few beers in my name. But they have a new pair of boots to lick, I bet."

Then, Max starts to cry in earnest. Big, heaving sobs, wrenched out of her with brute force. Honestly, some part of Steve wants to give up and join in. He's supposed to be worrying about getting a girlfriend or a college degree, not fighting monsters or raising the dead. "I didn't know what else to bring except flowers," she says, between hitched breaths. "They're Forget-Me-Nots."

Billy's sneer drops off his face. "Hey, hey, don't cry," he says and kneels beside her. "You're barely out of middle school. You can't even afford half the flower shop in the first place. It's fine."

"Lucas has been helping me out. His mom gives him an allowance. And I sell cookies outside the arcade sometimes; Steve taught me how to make them."

"That's where you've been getting your money from?" Steve blinks. "Wait, you remembered my cookie recipe?"

"Your mom didn't give you any money for them?"

Max shakes her head. "Neil would ask questions." She sniffs wetly. "He didn't even show up to your funeral! My dad's strung out on coke back in LA and he'd probably still show up to mine."

"Whatever," Billy says. "The old man would've pissed on my grave anyway." He wraps an arm around her. "You should get home before it gets dark."

"Where are you gonna stay?"

"With me," Steve's mouth says before his brain can catch up with him.

_What the fuck?_ says Steve's brain.

"Huh?" Billy says. A part of Steve, probably the part that just fucking volunteered to house Billy Hargrove, notes that this is the first time he's ever seen Billy look so genuinely surprised. Blue eyes wide, mouth parted in a little 'o'. Straight up dumbfounded. Then it clears away, replaced by the usual angry scowl. "I don't need your pity, Harrington."

"No, uh. My parents are never home," Steve offers, like that clarifies why he just fucking invited the town's biggest, wildest, loosest cannon into his place of residence. A big, wild, zombie loose cannon, actually. Who hates him. "So they said I can have people over whenever. There's, like, a bunch of spare guest rooms already set up. Why let them go to waste, right?"

"Okay," Billy says, eyes lit by something hungry. "Well, if you're offering out of the kindness of your heart, King Steve, then who am I to refuse?"

Steve gets the distinct feeling of a predator who's just been cornered in his own territory by a rival. A rival he welcomed in with open arms, no less. What the hell was he thinking? Has _he_ been possessed by the Mind Flayer? He finds Billy's presence unsettling on a good day. On a bad day, well... that's when he gets a plate cracked over his skull. This isn't how it's supposed to go.

But then again, he needs to learn to stop expecting things, doesn't he?

"C'mon, I'll drive you home." He smiles, the expression of a dead man. "Both of you."

* * *

Steve can't help but steal glances at Billy every so often as they drive home, just to check if he's really there. There's a fever dream and there's resurrecting the dead brother of the kid you babysit and occasionally fight monsters with.

"I'm gonna skate down to Steve's every day after school and on weekends, okay? I don't care what you have to say about it. You were dead for five months and now you're not." Max's hands are on her hips as she stands outside her house. Her house where Billy isn't going.

"Yeah, sure." Max leans back into the car to squeeze the newly-found life out of Billy. "Relax, Maxine, before you strangle me. I'll see you tomorrow."

"You're in good hands," Max says. "Don't be a shitheel to Steve or he'll kick you out and you'll have to stay with Dustin."

Billy wrinkles his nose. It's the most innocent expression Steve's ever seen grace his face. "The gap-toothed one with the crazy cat lady bitch for a mom?"

"She likes to give all Dustin's friends homemade sweaters with little kittens and cupcakes and stuff on them. Steve won't make you wear a sweater, so don't be a dick."

"Uh, I won't make Billy wear anything," Steve interjects, and then winces at the shit-eating grin that gets aimed his way.

Billy winks. "Hear that, Maxine? He won't make me wear anything. Guess I have to play nice, then, huh?"

"You're disgusting," Max says. "Love you. Bye." And she walks up the front steps before she can receive any response. "Don't make Steve try and beat your ass again, okay? He's actually good at it now!" she calls out, and shuts the door.

"You're going to take that as a challenge, aren't you?" Steve sighs.

"Nah," Billy replies, easy. "I don't wanna stay with the toothless kid. His mom would lock me in her basement until I wore her sweaters and forcefeed me casserole."

"Mrs. Henderson isn't that bad," Steve protests, trying not to laugh. "She's just a little overbearing."

"That's one word for it."

The car fades into silence as Steve makes his way back to his corner of Hawkins. But the surreal feeling doesn't fade as he realises this is the first civil conversation he's had with Billy since he first arrived, and it's a civil conversation five months postmortem. He never thought he was going to say anything to Billy ever again, let alone say anything that didn't consist of the words "go," "fuck," and "yourself". He certainly never thought Billy would be staying in his fucking guest room.

But here he is, in the passenger seat of Steve's car, covered in grime but otherwise alive and animate. There's dust in his eyelashes and his ridiculously perfect head of curls, but as the light from the streetlamps illuminates his face, he looks healthy. Peaceful, almost, as he watches the signs pass by. Not dead inside, empty eyes and fake smiles, like the night Steve drove a convertible into his precious Camaro. Not mad with rage, like the night he nearly caved Steve's face in.

"Eyes on the road, Princess."

Steve blinks, goes red. "Sorry. I'm still trying to process everything, I guess."

"Yeah? Welcome to the club. Just don't crash your car into it on the way in."

* * *

Steve never likes coming home. It's always empty, and the floors creak, and every time he looks out his bedroom window he sees the pool, and every time he sees the pool it reminds him of what happened to Barbara. It doesn't look lived in, because Steve keeps to his room or the kitchen most of the time, and his parents haven't spent more than a week in it before setting off again for four years. Four years ago they spent two weeks. A real record-breaker.

He'd use the other rooms in the house more often if there was anything to do in them. But they're mainly there to look pretty and make his parents' dinner guests think they can afford to have expensive taste. Like they wouldn't notice the house, or the car, or the pool, or the yard, or really just the insufferably stuck-up-their-own-ass energy his parents ooze everywhere they go. King Steve, crowned because of his access to Daddy's credit card.

"Nice place," Billy says on the tail-end of a whistle. "Huge. You probably won't even notice I'm here."

"Home, sweet home." Steve gestures to his right. "Kitchen's over there, help yourself to the fridge. There's a bathroom on this floor, but the ones with showers are upstairs. The bedrooms are upstairs, too. Uh, if you want the nicest guest room, it's right across from mine. It has a welcome sign Mom painted hung up on the door, can't miss it." He scratches his neck, suddenly at a loss for words. Taking care of the kids comes naturally. They usually just yell demands at him until he gives in, anyway. Food, soda, TV remote, VHS collection, blankets, and they're all set. "You hungry? I can make something."

"Too tired to eat," Billy says. "Gonna wash my own grave dirt off me and pass out." He toes off his shoes. The ones he was buried in. "Hey," he begins, begrudging, "thanks, Harrington. For what it's worth, when I cut up your pretty face, it wasn't personal. Or when I drove a car into you."

"I think I drove a car into you, actually, so let's just call it even."

"Works for me." Billy shrugs. "You took care of Max when I couldn't, and she's a handful. Probably a lot harder to deal with than the other nerds. So thanks for that, too."

"It's no problem. They all kinda saved my life from demodogs, so. I owe them."  
  
Billy raises an eyebrow. Then, he says, "Christ, this town is fucking freakish," and heads upstairs.

* * *

Steve makes himself a sandwich, nothing more complicated than a PB&J, and then follows Billy upstairs. He's already in the shower, so Steve knocks on the door and calls in, "I'll leave some spare clothes in your room."

"Sure they'll fit me?" Billy calls back. "I'm a lot bigger than you are, Harrington."

Steve tries not to cringe at the implications of that statement. "They're sweatpants, they'll stretch. Besides, I'm taller."

"If that's what helps you sleep at night."

He fights a groan and goes to rifle through his closet for some spare pyjamas. Why would saying thank you one time cure Billy Hargrove of being... Billy Hargrove? _Chances are he has a deathly allergy to humility,_ says the little Robin in his head, _or being tolerable for more than five minutes._ But either way, as much as it feels like swallowing sand to admit, intolerable and arrogant in his guest room and watching out for Max is better than the five months of peace and quiet in the ground and Max's haunted looks every time she went home alone. Steve can't for the life of him figure out why Max loves him so much, but her smiles in the car earlier were the realest he'd seen in months. He hadn't even noticed just how dim the fire in her eyes had been burning until he saw it bright again.

It's fucked up, but Hawkins needs Billy Hargrove. Go fucking figure.

Maybe to spite his parents, or maybe to keep the house looking alive, Steve always leaves his room a mess. By the time he's pored through the back of his closet and found an acceptable pair of pants, Billy is already making himself at home in the guest room, towel hanging low on his hips as he searches through the drawers and pulls out extra blankets. Guess it's cold when you're dead.

There are scars over his chest, long and silvery, the only piece of evidence left to prove the Mind Flayer touched him at all. They seem to have completely healed over, despite Billy spending the past five months six feet under. The idea of Billy recovering from critical injury alone in his own coffin makes something in Steve's stomach twist.

"Take a picture," Billy snaps. "It'll last longer."

"Sorry," Steve says, making this the second time he's apologised for staring too long at Billy Hargrove today. He can feel the heat rise in his cheeks, knows they're flushing a deeper pink by the second. "I was just making sure you weren't cut up or anything."

"I'm fucking fine." More blankets are thrown in a heap onto the bed. "I don't need any bandaids for my boo-boos, Princess, I just need to fucking sleep. Maybe for the next year. I'm not going to give up the ghost and rot away in your guest bed, Harrington, so don't worry your pretty little head about it."

"Christ, Hargrove, cleaning up your dead body isn't the only reason why someone would be concerned, you asshole. Nobody wanted you dead, y'know."

"Wow, guess there's a first time for everything, after all."

It's supposed to come out biting, sharp and painful like the rest of the words that come flying out of Billy's mouth, but instead it just drains all the fight from him. Hearing it just makes him feel vaguely sick. Imagining spending his whole life knowing everyone around him wanted him dead makes him want to scream, or cry, or both. "Look, man, just feel free to come get me if you need anything. My door's not locked."

"Sure, whatever, Steve," Billy says, distracted. "Will do."

It's the first time he can remember that Billy's called him by his first name, and some sick part of him is a little pleased.

Of fucking course it is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was so worried about Billy's voice. Still am, tbh, because I am made of pure self-doubt. But I have years of experience writing for SPN and DC, so I channeled a little Dean Winchester and a little Jason Todd and got this. Hey, they're all practically triplets, right?! Sarcastic asshole back from the dead after sacrificing themselves to a mad demon, exhausted with their idealist little siblings, making a job out of fighting monsters, and sick to death of having to respect their dad (who has a list of issues a mile long). Oh, and fond of beating up their problems until they go away. Sounds like a match made in heaven!
> 
> Also, everyone is doing the "Billy comes back from the dead and has superpowers" thing, and I, uh, yeah, I'm also doing that, because you can take the fan out of superhero comics, but you can't take the superhero comics out of the fan. So stay tuned for 012!Billy, I guess. Or maybe 013!, if we count Will, kind of. I think what power I'm giving him hasn't been done before at least??? I am a very unoriginal, trope-loving fuck. I'm sorry.
> 
> Also, I listened to Her by O'D, We Could Be Heaven by SLDGHMR & Crywolf, Culture Code's remix of Summer Ashes by KDrew, and basically everything by Summer Was Fun (especially Pick Up the Phone) on repeat while writing this, so there's the playlist playing in my head for this story, if anyone wants to know. It's all vaguely 80's synthwave-inspired EDM. Maybe I'll make an 8tracks for it and link it in the main notes, if anyone's interested.


	3. Part Three: The Phone Home

Steve doesn't usually sleep well. He hadn't exactly slept like the dead before the Demogorgon tried to murder everyone in his hometown, but afterwards he found himself begging for the days of waking up at 4AM because he had to pee and not because he'd dreamt a monster ate his ex-girlfriend's face.

But tonight is different. For the first few hours, at least, it's different, and that's honestly all he can ask for. He doesn't have the best luck these days, but he scrapes by. So, the first few hours are paradise. From what it seems, Billy is fighting fit, especially for a guy who spent the last couple months dead. Usually Steve feels hunted here, all open spaces and empty rooms, but with someone who's proven he can handle himself and is willing to fight dirty in the room nextdoor, there's a weight off his shoulders. He finally has someone watching his back, can let his guard slip.

So, yeah. It's good. Great, even. And then the first solid sleep he's had in a year shatters apart like glass.

No rest for the wicked.

Steve wakes up to a scream. His heart is in his throat, hand on his bat, feet on the ground before he can even think. The room is almost pitch black, moon blocked out by thick curtains (can't look at the pool, can't see it, can't even smell the chlorine without thinking of faces opening up like flowers, blood-slick teeth), lit only by the dim red glow of his alarm clock. 3:37 AM.

He's running to Billy's room without even considering the repercussions (maybe a welcome sign to the head, or Mom's antique vase), breath coming in short pants, sweat beading at the back of his neck. He slams the door open, and...

And nothing.

Billy's curled up, foetal, like he's trying to take up as little space as physically possible. His usually pissed off expression has twisted into something between fear and despair, and he's twitching like he's desperate to move.

Night terrors. Steve has been intimately familiar with them since the beginning, but being tortured and drugged out of his mind in the basement of a foreign military laboratory hasn't helped ward them off recently.

He doesn't know why he's surprised, like Billy would somehow come out unscathed from untold hours in the Upside Down, but it's the first time Steve's seen genuine terror on his face, and it seems so out of place. The past day has held a lot of firsts regarding Billy, none of them pleasant.

"Wake up," Steve says, then yells. "Billy, wake up."

Billy shoots up, eyes wide, unfocused, and darting around the room, frantic.

"You're okay. It's me, it's Steve. Steve Harrington. You're at my house. Not the Upside Down. Remember?"

Blown-out pupils finally come to rest on his face. Then, a pained groan. "Fuck," Billy growls. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

"It was just a dream."

"I know that," he snaps. He's immediately on the defensive, and he hasn't even been awake one minute. Steve frowns. "I'm fine. Just wanted to get some fucking sleep."

"I get them, too," he offers. "All the time."

"King Steve, not such a king in his dreams." Billy sneers. Sweat drips down his temple. "Just as fucked up as the rest of us, deep down, aren't you, Harrington?"

"Yeah," Steve says in return. This isn't something he's ever tried to hide from the people who understand what really lurks beneath Hawkins, Indiana. You can't say you've seen monsters and then pretend everything's just peachy keen. True enough, he'd wanted to try that at first, but one look into Nancy's discerning gaze and he'd realised he wouldn't ever win. "Yeah, Billy. It's kind of a guarantee, after seeing this shit."

"I don't fucking get it," Billy spits out, teeth grit. "Why is there a goddamn parallel dimension in Buttfuck, Nowhere, why does it have a bunch of monsters in it that look like Lovecraft's wettest dream, and why is the only person who can keep it from opening up and killing us all a 13-year-old girl with fucking superpowers?"

"Science experiments," Steve says. Billy's glare hardens. "No, no, seriously, I don't know _why_, or even really who, or how, but there was that lab, and they were trying some cutting edge shit there on- on kids, kids like El, trying to make them into the next superweapon, giving them powers by fucking with that Dimension, and then those _things_ came out. I don't know what they are. I don't know if they've always been there, or they made them, or what. I don't _know_, Billy, but they opened Pandora's Box with it, and the only thing that can really hurt them is whatever else has been in the Upside Down, okay? And since El is the only one left who knows anything about it that's willing to pick up all the pieces, we just gotta deal with it alone, even though none of us have a single fucking clue what we're doing.

"So, yeah, we're fucked up. It's fucked up. And the only thing that keeps any of us from losing it is sticking together, so quit the macho posturing bullshit and let us show some sympathy for what you're going through, for Chrissake. _We've been through it, too._"

Steve's panting, hands balled into fists at his side, so utterly exhausted he feels like a light breeze could knock him off his feet. Billy must notice, because he doesn't throw any punches, even though his expression shutters immediately. "I don't need your pity, Harrington."

"It's not about pity, asshole! It's about _being a decent person._ Clearly you haven't met many before, which is probably why you're such a giant dick to everyone around, but you died and for some reason people cared, Hargrove, so just fucking accept it now you've got a literal second chance. It's not pity, I just know what it's like."

Billy blinks, sits back down on the bed. He's quiet. All Steve can hear is the crickets outside, the hum of the fridge downstairs, the biting winter wind.

"You saved our lives," Steve continues, when the silence doesn't break. "That proved whatever Max sees in you that makes her want you in her life isn't just a bunch of made up bullshit. Nobody pities you, they're grateful to you. Don't fuck it up, okay? Treat any one of the kids like shit tomorrow when they try to offer you a place in the party and I will kick you out on your ass. Capiche?"

Billy startles out a mocking laugh. "They don't want me in your little group, Steve. Maybe I saved their asses from that Thing, but I'm still big, bad Billy Hargrove. Easy to be grateful when I'm not around, but now I'm back they'll start remembering who I really am."

"Yeah, and who's that?" Steve asks. "You died, Billy, and then you came back. Are you really the same person who tried to beat the shit out of them that night at the Byers'?"

Billy doesn't have any response after that.

* * *

The first thing Steve does when he wakes up in the morning (again) is call Robin. The second thing he does is hear her berate him for the ungodly hour.

"It's seven, or six, or something similarly as terrible," she grates. "Why are you calling me on my precious weekend, Steve?"

"The craziest shit happened to me yesterday," Steve blusters on, ignoring her harsh tone. Robin is a kindred spirit, a shared soul, whatever. She's about the only person in this town who unequivocally understands just how fucking weird his life is, and how fucking weird the lives of everyone involved in this mess have become. And she meets that weirdness with unending dry sarcasm and determination. Steve is half-way in love with her. The other half wants to _be_ her. "I don't even know if you're gonna believe me."

"Yeah, I'll believe you. You're not creative enough to come up with any tall tales, Steve, not with your taste in movies."

"I watch whatever you recommend me! Just because I have a weakness for-"

"Shitty B-movie action flicks," Robin interrupts.

"-shitty B-movie action flicks, doesn't mean I can't appreciate the classics. But, uh, yeah, this is definitely like something out of a B-movie, so... you're just gonna have to trust me on this. Anyway." Steve winces. Just get it over with. Just say it. "Billy Hargrove crawled out of his grave yesterday," he gets out, all in a rush.

Steve's eardrums nearly rupture at the ensuing volume of Robin's voice. "He _what?!_"

"You're gonna give me hearing loss," he grouses. "But, I know. That was kinda my reaction, too. And get this, he's completely fine. Besides a few scars, it's like nothing even happened."

He hears a noise halfway between impressed and disbelieving. "No way. How the fuck does someone walk away from being impaled by some giant monster's tentacle?"

"Apparently he got stuck in the Upside Down."

Robin hums sceptically. "And it just magically fixed him?"

"I mean, El can move things with her mind. I've basically just stopped asking questions, man."

A snort. "That's fair," she concedes. "But holy shit. Okay, wow. You need to tell your group of weird little nerd children about this."

"Yeah, they're next in line. I'll probably get tinnitus by the time that's over."

There's a momentary pause. Then, "What did you do with him? Send him back to his dad?"

"Actually, I sort of invited him to my house."

"You did _what?!_" Steve's ears ring again, but before he can explain himself further, she continues, "My god, Steve, didn't he beat the shit out of you, like, a few months ago? You just invited him to live with you?"

"What else was I supposed to do with him? His dad hates him, his car is at the junkyard, he doesn't have any cash for a motel, he's basically got nowhere to go. I'm not leaving him on the streets, even though he gave me a scar on my head from breaking a freaking plate over it."

"Do you want to get into his pants or something?" Robin bursts out.

Steve chokes on his own spit. Hard. He doubles over and gasps. _Robin, what the fuck?_ She's always springing shit on him that he doesn't expect. What's he been saying about expectations these past few days? That they've been biting him repeatedly in the ass?

His eyes are watering and he's wheezing desperately for breath by the time he can formulate a reply. Robin's no doubt heard the last twenty seconds of his agony. "Jesus, Robin! No, I'm not being a decent human being just so I can _sleep with him_, what kinda sleazebag do you take me for?"

"Well, you just said he broke a plate over your head, and now you're getting chummy with him in your house! What else am I supposed to think?"

"That I'm trying to be a good person for once! I spent most of high school being an asshole to everyone, even Nancy, and I don't want to end up, well, kicked out of my dad's house with a totaled car and nowhere to go next time I need help."

Robin sighs. Sympathetically, she reassures him, "You're nothing like Billy Hargrove, Steve."

"I'm kind of thinking I am, actually," he says. He rubs his temples and shakes away the melancholy. "Anyway, that's not the only reason I'm helping him. You should'a seen Max's reaction when he came back, Rob. It was like the second coming of Christ or something."

"You know Max needs him."

"Yeah, which means he's not all bad, right? I'm giving him a second chance, for Max's sake at least. A trial run at not being a piece of shit."

Robin whistles in what he suspects is admiration at his sheer boneheaded stupidity. "Dude, you've got your work cut out for you, that's all I'm gonna say."

"Wow, thanks."

"I'm coming over soon. I'll pick up the nerds, too." He can hear her grin over the phone. "Better make those calls fast, Steve. This offer expires in the time it takes me to make and consume a cup of coffee."

"Yes, ma'am," Steve replies sardonically, and hangs up.

God, does he love Robin Buckley.

* * *

Billy is still asleep, so Steve sneaks up to his room and, subsequently, the walkie-talkies, as quietly as he possibly can. He doesn't know how Billy's sleep was in the Upside Down, or if he even had any, so he's not about to fuck up the only time Billy's been able to rest and relax in months. The Nerds will wake him up with their screaming when they arrive anyway.

Besides, before dying, Billy was absolutely the type to mock them relentlessly for communicating by radio. Maybe now he's been dead he'll have some more appreciation for avoiding tapped phonelines, but Steve's not holding his breath.

He settles on the couch in the living room, takes a deep breath, and braces himself. "Hello? Anyone alive?" Bad choice of words. "I know you're probably all asleep, but I've got something to tell you guys."

"You're pregnant?" comes Mike's voice.

"It's seven in the morning?" comes Dustin's.

Steve rolls his eyes. As soon as you hit puberty, you just have to become an insufferable smartass, apparently. "Neither of those. Listen, Robin's coming to pick you up and take you to my place, okay? There's something you need to see."

"What? At seven?" Mike growls. "This better be good."

"Steve wouldn't call unless it was important, dude," Dustin says, defensive. At least someone is on his side.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Steve begins, and is swiftly talked over.

"Seven in the morning, though?" Dustin groans. "What the hell?"

"Why is there noise?" It's Lucas' voice now. "Why are you talking?"

"Robin's coming to pick us up because Steve has 'something important' to show us," Mike explains, tone revealing exactly what he thinks of the gravity of the situation. God, Steve hopes he was never this bad at 13.

"Man, why? Why now?"

"It can't wait," Steve snaps. "I'll see you guys in fifteen." Then, he gets up to make some breakfast.

* * *

He's scrambling eggs when he hears Robin's car pull up. Just the right ratio of butter, soon to be topped with a sprinkle of cheese, maybe some sour cream. Billy's probably going to be hungry enough to eat a horse, and the Nerds have never refused free food in their lives.

He keeps cooking. Robin already has a key, one he gave her as soon as they were back on their feet after the mall. He hates the thought of being trapped in the house, injured or worse, while his friends waste time kicking the door in. Not that it's rational to imagine he'll be attacked by monsters in his own home, but nothing much about Hawkins is rational anymore.

The Nerds shuffle in, mumbling and complaining. Robin is sipping a thermos of coffee, looking amused. Max is the only one already awake and alert. Steve wonders if she slept at all last night. Or maybe she had the best sleep in five long months.

"What's the big deal?" Mike asks. "Why are we here at the crack of dawn, ass o'clock in the morning-"

"Don't be dramatic," Max interrupts. "Tell them," she says to Steve.

"Sit down first," Steve replies. "Eat some eggs. Stop looking at me like I just kicked a puppy."

Mike eats like someone with a teenage persecution complex, but the taste of Steve's not-so-shabby culinary skills has him a little less resentful by the time Steve sits down to join them.

"So what's up?" Lucas asks.

"I wanna start this by saying we're gonna have to radio El," Steve says.

"It's an Upside Down thing?" Dustin immediately goes pale. "Are you okay?"

"Everything's fine." Well, okay, Steve has no idea if he can classify Billy's return from the dead as fine. Billy is a menace on a good day and somewhat of a town terrorist on a bad one. On a really bad one, he's kidnapping lifeguards. But it's not like he can say that in front of Max.

Mike raises an eyebrow. "Then what's so important that we have to get up at seven?"

"Okay, don't freak out," Steve begins.

The colour that was returning to Dustin's face goes back into hiding. "That's usually when people start freaking out, Steve!"

"You know how Billy sacrificed himself to stop the Mind Flayer from turning us into zombie meat goop?" Everyone nods. "Well, it looks like he didn't actually stay sacrificed."

"He pulled a Jesus?" Dustin says. Lucas chokes on his eggs. "What? Okay, fine, an evil Jesus. He pulled an evil Jesus."

"I kind of expected you not to believe me," Steve says, ignoring any and all Christ allegories. Billy is the least holy person in a five hundred mile radius. Though he'd definitely be down for turning water into wine.

"In this town?" asks Lucas. "Are you kidding me?"

"He's got a point," Robin cuts in.

"He's upstairs," Steve says. "I'm kinda letting him crash here while we work everything out."

"What?" Mike screeches, a sound as grating as the barn owls outside Steve's window in the early hours of the morning. "He could kill you! He could kill us!"

"He's not actually Flayed anymore," Steve says, at the same time as Max's, "Fuck off, asshole!"

"I don't want Steve to get murdered, obviously!" Mike shouts. "He's one of us now. And we don't let Party Members get murdered, especially not by psychos like Billy Hargrove!"

"You've probably woken that psycho up by now, actually," Robin offers up. "Better get defending, pipsqueak."

"He's not going to kill me. Or you. He's not a zombie, and he's not crazy. Honestly, it's like nothing ever happened to him."

"He didn't exactly come into this town normal," Robin says.

"He hasn't threatened anyone since he came back."

"Wow, it's a Christmas miracle," Lucas grumbles. Steve flinches. He deserves that.

"I promise you he isn't going to do anything. Also, I maybe threatened to kick his ass if he tried something."

Only Dustin actually seems reassured by that. Steve tries not to be offended.

Mike sighs, finishing his eggs and throwing his fork onto his plate. "What do you want to tell El?"

"That he's back. She knows his mind now. I want to ask her if she'll check him over, make sure the Upside Down hasn't made him sick or something."

"It didn't make Will sick," Max says. Everyone looks sceptical. "The first time around. Right?"

"I'm sure he's fine," Steve assures. "I just want to double check."

"Stop talking about me like I'm not around, pretty boy," comes a voice from the stairs. Steve nearly jumps out of his skin. "I want to go with you. To talk to Supergirl. Say thanks."

"Billy!" Max cries, and abandons her eggs to run at him at supersonic speed. She barrels into him, a hit he takes easily. Easier than yesterday. He's recovering quickly.

That's a good thing, he thinks. He hopes.

"Hey, Mad Max." Billy doesn't smile, exactly, but he doesn't look like he wishes he were anywhere but here, so Steve takes that as a win. "Save any eggs?"

"Oh my god," Dustin says. "He's really alive. Like, actually, really alive."

Steve shrugs, somewhat hysterical. "Stranger things have happened."

Right?

* * *

The first thing Billy does when he sees the makeshift radio tower on the hill is laugh. The second thing he does is laugh even harder when Dustin flips him off for laughing. "A bunch of middle school science geeks and their two babysitters took down Russian spies. You've gotta be shitting me on this."

"'This' actually saved your sorry ass," Dustin hisses. "Communication is key, that's what my girlfriend Susie says. That applies to preventing a doomsday scenario, too."

"It sure fucking does," Billy says. "This town looks too pathetic to have almost started the Apocalypse. Guess it makes sense that a bunch of nerds who couldn't throw a punch worth shit stopped it."

"I could kick your ass," Mike grits out.

"No, you couldn't," Steve says hurriedly. "And you aren't going to try, either. Dustin, let's get this show on the road."

"Is his girlfriend a nerd, too?" Billy asks gleefully.

"She's a genius," Dustin snaps. "And way cooler than you." He turns on the radio before Billy can protest.

Mike is the first to say anything. Steve doesn't know the last time he spoke to his girlfriend. A day is probably too long. "El? El, are you there?"

There's silence for a minute or so. Steve sits back in the grass and watches the clouds roll by. Birdsong is an accompaniment to the crackling static of the receiver. "El?" Mike asks again.

Finally, "Hello, Mike."

"El!"

"Everything's okay?"

"Yeah," Mike says, face smoothing out from his usual scowl into something warm, relieved. "Everything's okay. I missed you." Lucas mimes a gag, which Mike ignores. Max elbows him. Lucas isn't innocent of being a sap.

Steve hadn't been, either.

El's voice is just as warm in return. "Missed you, too."

"Hey, El, Steve wants to ask you something. He made us get up super early for it and everything."

"Ask what?"

Steve leans into the mic. "You got to Billy in time," he says. There's an intake of breath. "Part of him got trapped in the Upside Down, but it kept him alive. Gave him time to get his strength back, escape. He got out, El. He's back."

Billy shifts, apprehensive. "Good," El replies, after a pause, and Steve sees something like relief flicker over Billy's face. "He was lost. He had to find himself. I tried to be his guide, but I didn't know how. If I knew how, he'd have come back sooner. I'm sorry."

"I wanted to say thanks," Billy says. "It wasn't your fault. Anyway, you did know how. I'm here now, aren't I?"

"You okay?" she asks.

"That's what I wanted to ask you, actually," Steve interrupts. "I was wondering if you could... reach out. Check that the Upside Down didn't hurt him. Can you do that, or...?"

"Okay," she says, just like that. Like it's nothing. "When it's for helping, my powers work better." She hums. "Billy. It feels weird. Remember?"

Billy nods, like he thinks she can see. Maybe she can. Steve's kind of never asked how that all works. Any of it. He just sort of... accepted it. "Yeah, I remember. I won't fight you."

"Close your eyes. I'll be there."

Billy, for once in what Steve suspects is his entire life, does as he's told. For a second, there's nothing. Then, "Oh, man, that's weird as fuck."

Max grips his hand. She's worrying at her lip with her teeth. "It doesn't hurt, right?"

"No, it's fine."

Nobody says anything. Steve looks at the clouds again. He thinks he sees the sun peeking through.

"Oh," says El, a few moments later. Max's eyes widen, and she looks a little sick. "He's okay. But he's different."

"Different how?" Max's voice wobbles, gone high and reedy at the edges.

"He's like me now," El explains, somewhat unhelpfully.

Max's voice goes impossibly higher. "Like you how?"

"He can do things. With his mind."

There's no noise for a few seconds, save for the birds and the rustle of the grass that's escaped the snow in the winter wind. Those few seconds feel like forever. Then, chaos.

"He can what?" Dustin yells.

"He has superpowers?" Mike yells, louder. Steve slaps his hands over his ears. He doesn't know what to register first.

"But Will doesn't have superpowers!" Lucas protests. "Why can't Will be the one with superpowers? That's not fair, man!"

"Will has the supersense," Max says. "See? Everyone gets something."

Mike throws up his hands. "What'd he get, then?"

"I don't know. He has to find it, what he can do," El continues. "I can't find it for him."

Billy blinks, then his mouth pulls down into a grimace. "Well, what the fuck am I supposed to do with that?"

Steve wonders the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may have also sort of made Billy into Katsuki Bakugou and Steve into Midoriya Izuku. Which makes... Jonathan Todoroki Shouto? I draw too much from other characters.
> 
> The plot thickens! Or it doesn't. I don't know what I'm doing half the time.
> 
> Soundtrack's expanding this chapter! I was listening to Innerpartysystem - Structure and ahh-ooh - Out of the Blue while writing this section. I really should get to that 8tracks.


End file.
